


I Can’t Look At Him Without Smiling

by BetsyByron



Series: College Bondlock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossover, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is a regular Uni student - going to his classes, drinking with his friends, picking up girls - and falling in love with boys he rescues from bad guys in back alleys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by (hum, shamelessly copied from) what a character in Bright Star says about, well, Ben Whishaw ;) as John Keats

The girl he had picked to flirt with that night was getting on his nerves after twenty minutes, so much so that he didn't even want to take her to bed anymore. He didn't always play to score, but he hadn't get laid in a while and he really needed to release some of the pressure, sooner rather than later. Hell, he was so starved even that slender guy moving like a snake of the dance-floor was appealing. He wasn't saying anyone would do, but this boy sure knew how to be sensual.

By the time he had gotten rid of the girl and got a refill at the bar, the boy was gone. James envied him for being able to dance like that, sexy without restraint. James’s kind of seduction was more subtle, but sometimes it didn't seem worth the effort if all it took for some people was a sway of the hips. Anyway, good for this guy if he got some.

He saw the girl move through the crowd back towards him – maybe he hadn't sent a clear enough message – and decided he needed some air. He elbowed his way to the back door and got out in the alley. On the left end, two guys were going at it against the wall. For some reason, it annoyed him.

He was about to move on and maybe just call it a night, but the taller guy shoved his partner against the bins with a snarl, a James figured there was something wrong with the picture. The guy threw in a kick before James got to him and put a stop to any further beating by punching him straight in the jaw. He would have given a second one free of charge, if only to unwind himself, but the guy ran off with his tail between his legs.

The other one was in a state of complete panic. James scooted down to take a look at him. Oh, it was this boy. Dancing wasn't always the best solution then.

“Hey.” He asked. “Are you okay?”

The poor kid seemed completely out of it – understandably. He removed the glasses to see if his face was intact.

“Let me look at you.”

He had a split lip – James asked if he was alright again, without any more of an answer – and bruises forming on his neck, but overall he looked physically okay.

“You’ll have bruises.” He informed the boy in a tone he wanted reassuring, because it could have been a lot worse than that.

“Hey.” He then prompted. “Can you talk or what?”

In response, the guy curled into a ball and asked him to leave him alone. Like he would. He forced him up, gently but firmly, holding him until he was sure he could stand by himself. He wanted to pretend it was nothing when the boy fumbled to close the button of his jeans, but he had to ask.

“Did he...”

Thankfully, the answer was negative. When James offered to accompany him back home, he looked completely spooked. James didn’t expect him to trust anyone at this point, but he didn’t feel comfortable to watch him walk away into the darkness by himself. He didn’t want to force him though, and he didn’t insist. He asked for his name.

“Let’s not do names.”

His head dropped down, and James wanted to say it was okay, it wasn’t his fault, there was nothing to be ashamed of. He remembered Ellie. Eaten away by disgust of herself, until she couldn’t stand it anymore. God he didn’t wish that to happen to anyone.

“Alright.” He conceded anyway.

A silver pin caught his eye on the boy’s lapel, and he raised a hand to it. It was a delicate, finely crafted, probably ludicrously expensive little Q. His initial, most likely.

“Q.” He read. “You sure I can leave you?”

No was the immediate answer “Q”’s body language conveyed, but he voiced the affirmative, assuring that he was fine, even if he was as far from fine as James had known anyone to be in a long time. Surely though, he deserved some time alone. James let him go.

He realized he still had the boy's glasses about five minutes after he'd left; but it would have to wait for the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James finds himself feeling a little more strongly about Quinn than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James is 6 years older than Q in this, but (even if I wrote something like that :p) he is not attracted to him just because of his age in a pervert way. What I mean (what James thinks) when he says Q is hot, is the age/smartness ratio (since he's here in Uni), mixed with the cuteness and vulnerability which pushes James's buttons (because he's a knight in shining and all that ^^)

Apparently there weren't many BA students – he couldn't be older that a first year – who fitted the description James provided.

“Quinton Holmes.” The girl he asked recognised immediately. “He's in dorm B, and his name should be on a mailbox with the room number.”

James thanked her and went right ahead. There was always a chance the boy would be in class, but seeing the state he had been in the night before, maybe not.

The answer was immediate after he knocked on the door – James came in and this damn kid was standing there in the middle of the room in his underwear and a white t-shirt. Obviously, James was the last person he had expected to see. He looked so damn young James had to make a joke about it before he caught himself finding that hot.

Sixteen. That bastard. It was hot. It made him want to wrap his arms around him and swear he’d protect him. What was he even doing here?

He tried to sound light and kind when talking to him, but he couldn’t avoid asking him serious questions. And he couldn’t avoid mentioning Ellie. He hadn’t been able to protect her. Not just from the rape, but from its aftermath. He didn’t want to make that same mistake again. He didn’t want to feel that guilt again.

Q – even though he knew his full name now, he had registered quite naturally under this one letter in James’s mind – noticed there was something bothering him, but when he was pressed he didn’t quite know what to say.

“Do you...Do you know who he is?”

He regretted the question as soon as it was out of his mouth, seeing how the boy’s shoulders tensed.

“No idea.” He answered. “Just a guy. Why? You the campus vigilante or something?”

Whether this sudden surge of bravado was a way to protect himself or not, James did not like the implication that his enquiry didn’t matter. He snapped – just a little.

“Remember that person I knew who was raped?” He reminded him. “She killed herself. And I know he didn’t fully get his way with you, but there’s no guarantee he’s not going to look for seconds. I don’t want any of it on my conscience.”

Which was true, rash as it sounded. He wouldn’t stand it a second time. The thought of this kid getting hurt was bad enough – he couldn’t let it be his fault. Not that it was in the first place, but now he was there, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t – Jesus he was rambling. He had just met the damn kid. Why couldn’t he report the episode to a member of staff and let it cease to be his problem?

“You don’t have to get involved.” Q echoed his deliberation. “We’re not friends.”

 _No, we’re not_ , James thought. _But you’re just a kid, and you dance like a devil_. He took in the eyes, the lips – swollen and cut –, the messy hair and the slender neck. He was like a baby bird fallen from the nest. James mentally cupped the little thing in his hands and brought it close to his heart, smoothing the soft feathers with his thumb. He wasn’t going to let any harm come to it.

To him. He looked at Q, a little shaken. He hadn’t felt this strongly this suddenly about someone in – probably never. He had always had somewhat of a “hero complex”, as his cousin put it, but this was something else entirely. He forced himself to adopt a casual tone.

“Well,” he said as neutrally as he could, “I got involved when I punched the bastard in the face."

He sounded almost smug. Brilliant. When he wanted to smile, and say _Don’t worry kiddo, I got your back_. Q looked comforted, though. Good. Mission accomplished. Now he had to go – he returned the glasses on their owner’s nose, which was the stated purpose to his visit – but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave without taking secondary precautions. He fished an old receipt out of his pocket, scribbled his number on it and gave it to Quinn.

“Here.” He said with an engaging smile. “You call me if you need someone to throw a punch or two, kay?”

“Okay.” The boy answered. After a pause, he added: “I’m sorry, I don’t want to throw you out, but... I need to rest.”

“Sure.” James conceded. “Bye, then.” He smiled. “Q.”

What had started with convenience, because it was the only letter he knew of his name, was beginning to sound like endearment, which surprised James himself. He didn’t do cute names; any girl who had tried that on him had gotten swiftly dumped in the past. But somehow, it suited him too well to pass. Q.

He only cursed himself for being an idiot when he was out. The kid had nearly been raped, he was clearly upset, and there he went and flirted with him. Very smart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even James Bond can be confused when he thinks you're not looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING mention of rape and suicide (nothing graphic at all)

Next time he saw Q was back at the bar, where he went for his weekly drink with John. He was meeting some friends, apparently, but wasn't very good at keeping his attention focused entirely on them.

To his surprise, although it started feeling like a habit, James found himself equally distracted by the boy's presence. He could feel his gaze on the exposed side of him and had to concentrate not to turn to look his way. He focused so hard on John he didn't catch any of what he was saying, and settled for pretending he had with a friendly nudge.

The rattling of the bar stool against the floor made him turn finally, and John rolled his eyes.

“Buy him a drink already.” He laughed.

“What?”

John cast him the “don't try to act innocent” look.

“Ever since he came in, you have applied yourself not to give him another glance. You think I'm blind?”

“He's just some kid.” James tried to defend.

“Go, get, him.” John ordered. “Now.”

James couldn't help but remember 'the prophecy' his cousin Paul had spoken about him when they were teens. It had nothing of a prophecy of course, it was just something Paul had said in anger when James had mocked him for reacting like a girl. _“Yeah, and you're all smooth charm and virility and you can get any woman. One day James, you are going to fall for a boy so hard you won't know what hit you. And I really hope this boy hates your guts.”_

James had ruled that as Paul being repressed and a little in love with him – which was probably the truth – but now he wondered if he had really seen in him something, whatever, that made any of what he was saying somewhat plausible.

What he was sure about, is that he seemed to have his foot in his mouth when he tried to be his usual pleasant self with Quinton. The boy changed colours or looked confused, sometimes as far as slightly upset, every second sentence he said. He had to admit, he was used to girls swooning over him naturally, and paying little actual attention to what he was saying. But this little guy was sharp, not letting even one word go unheeded.

He let John do the talking for a few minutes, wondering why he had just – repeatedly – compared Q to the girls he had one-night stands with. Their past, present and potential future relationship was as far from that as could be. He really had to stop flirting with him, especially given the fact that it didn’t really seem to hit home.

Then, of course, as he had been lost in his thoughts, he said something horrible. Well, not really horrible, in itself it was a fair warning, but it struck a rather unfortunate chord. The young Holmes choked on his drink.

“I’m sorry.” James tried to apologize, mortified. “I didn’t mean...” Oh God he was making things worse. “Sorry.”

John shot a worried look back and forth the two of them.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Quinton reacted first. “Thanks for the drink.” He threw in.

He got up to leave, and James couldn’t blame him, but he couldn’t just let him go either.

“Q, wait, I-”

“And stopped calling me that!”

That stopped James dead in his tracks. When the club door slammed heavily behind the boy, he let himself crash back in his chair.

“I’m a horrible person.” He cursed himself.

“James...” John started.

“Why did you have to push me? He’ll be better off if I fucking leave him alone. He doesn’t need me to remind him...”

He let out a frustrated growl, rubbing his face furiously between his hands.

“Remind him...what?” John asked. “James, what happened?”

“He was assaulted.” James informed him, the words tasting sour in his mouth. “I stopped the worst from happening, but if I keep being there to remind him of that...”

John's hand landed on his arm.

“I’m sure he’d rather remember you than, you know, the other guy.”

“Yeah.” James huffed doubtfully.

“There should be no way in Hell you could blame yourself.” John added, adopting a lighter tone, probably to show James he was being ridiculous.”Yet you managed it. You are quite incredible, James. Your hero complex is going to get the best of you one day.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“He’s not Ellie.”

The renewed seriousness in John’s voice was almost sharp as a razor. James glowered, but John continued coldly:

“I know this is what you are thinking about. You still think it was your fault, don’t you?”

“I could have... I didn’t find the words, John, I couldn’t give her the comfort she needed and-“

John slapped his hand on the table.

“You were _seventeen,_ James, how could you possibly have known what to say?”

They had had this conversation years ago, but John had been more gentle then, trying to sweet-talk the guilt away, James dishevelled, drunk and crying, the night after the funeral.

“I didn’t find the words.” James repeated. “To tell her it was okay.”

“Because it wasn’t.” John said. “I don’t mean,” he added at James’s shocked face, “that you or anyone loved her any less because of what happened. But it wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay for her, you could not talk it out of existence, it happened, and it was horrifying, and she just couldn’t live with it. Did it never occur to you that there were no words?”

James’s breath hitched slightly.

“You know you’re not making me feel at all better, right?”

“It is **not** your fault, James.” John insisted. “Dealing with trauma is not something you improvise, and there is no textbook either. Trust an aspiring army doctor on this.”

“So what should I do about Quinton?” James asked after a pause.

“Nothing.” John said. “I’m sure he has family and close friends – I know what you’re about to say, he’s not necessarily going to talk to them about it. But you were right, you should give him some air. You’re a stranger. Yes you saved him, but you’re still a stranger. Spy on him if it makes you feel better because I know it’s not in you to stop caring, but if he wants to keep you at bay, let him.”

James nodded gravely. At bay. Right. Physically, he would certainly do that. It was keeping him out of his head which would probably prove trickier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have the feeling there's bits of dialogue missing with Q, it's because they're in Hurricane Drunk ;p


	4. Chapter 4

Any resolution James had taken to stay away from the boy was shattered into a million pieces the second he saw Q standing on the grass outside the Law building. He didn’t want to stay away. He didn’t want to spend too long a time without seeing his adorable odd face set out on a scrawny neck and framed by this damn mess of dark curls. James was a tactile person. He liked the concrete touch of things in his hands. And this hair was nothing short of begging him to tangle his fingers in it and feel its softness. Not to mention the crumpled cardigan – what kind of sixteen year-old wore a cardigan? – that James really wanted to smooth under his palms. Come on, it was probably cashmere and really soft.

The Holmes boy beckoned him discretely, and James remembered he would have to keep his hands to himself instead of reaching for every soft thing Q was setting in front of him.

“Wait.” He said to Eve, Meryl, Robert and Naomi behind him. “Just a second.”

They watched him reach Quinn in a few quick steps.

“Hi.” He said tentatively. He didn’t know whether he should smile. The young BA student looked very serious.

“Hello.” He answered soberly.

But he contrasted that, and James had to struggle not to laugh in surprise, by handing him a present.

“Here.” He said. “This is a thank you and a sorry. I like Q.”

And if that wasn’t enough to make James forsake any hope of ever forgetting about this kid’s existence, he blushed an adorable shade of pink when he was smiled to. James pretended not to notice not to embarrass him further, and tore the brown paper. It was a book – predictably, given the shape and weight. It looked vintage, the hard, blue leather cover only scarred by two fine lines of gold letters:

**Joseph Conrad**

_Typhoon And Other Stories_

The inside of the cover was of velvety patterned paper, and the pages a thick, high quality vellum. Every character seemed to have been pressed on the page individually and with the utmost care.

“Wow.” James almost whistled. “This is nice.”

He leafed through the smooth pages, happy to be able to run his hands on the soft surfaces – for want of Q’s hair and clothes – feeling the faintly embossed words at the tip of his fingers. This was a great choice of title too, Conrad being his favourite author. He hadn’t read Typhoon in a while, and... Wait. He looked at the boy again, frowning slightly.

“How did you know I liked Conrad?”

Q’s skin seem to colour a shade darker.

“I...”

Oh dear, James thought, unable not to be amused. Had he been observing him? Asking around? It wasn’t a hard thing to unearth, but you still had to want to find out one way or another.

“Lucky guess.” The boy pretended.

He wasn’t a very good liar. James smiled, because whatever he had done to get his gift right, it was a very sweet intention.

“Well, spot on.” He chose to let him get away with the particulars. “Thank you. Have you read it?”

“Yes. My father had quite the library.” He added. “I’ve always liked reading, even though I’m a computer boy.”

“Those are not incompatible.” James pointed out.

“I know.”

He sounded so mature for a moment. Not that he usually sounded childish, but there was always something flustered about the way he spoke. Then again, the situations in which James had spoken to him hadn’t been the best sample. But James had the sudden urge to ask him what his IQ was, and wondered if it would be distasteful.

“James!”

Meryl’s authoritative voice snapped him from his considerations. She didn’t hang out with them that often, but when she did, she seemed to assume she was in charge of the group or something.

“They’re waiting for me to go to lunch.” He exposed simply, instead of the less charitable option of saying “Sorry for that, Meryl is a cold bitch”, which did cross his mind.

He wanted to stay, pierce the mystery of young Quinton Holmes, but it would be weird to everyone if he just ditched his friends on the spot and suggest the both of them had lunch together.

“It’s okay, I have a class in five minutes.” Quinn got him out of the thorn bush anyway. “Again, sorry for the other night.” He said. “ And, thank you, for the other, other night.”

He blushed again, and James hated the thought that, wrapping it up like this, he seemed to be apologising for the wrong thing. He smiled but he felt cheerless.

“And sorry for what I said.” He offered, whishing he had time to express how much he meant that. “And thank you for this.” Again, this wasn’t just a book, but probably the most thoughtful gift he had ever been given by someone he knew so little. “See you around, Q.”

He could only hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James doesn't really know how to deal with this thing people call feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha this chapter is almost as long as the first four put together ^^"

“Didn't think he'd be your type.”

“What do you mean?”

Although he hadn’t said the name, James knew it was Quinn his friend was bringing up. John had had to virtually coax him, the day before, into sending a fucking text already to invite the boy to his party. John saw clear as day that James was a lost cause about Q; he just didn’t know exactly why. Neither did James, actually.

“He's not especially sexy.” John explained. “He's more like, awkward and cute. Adorable, don’t get me wrong, very attractive in his own way, but not your type.”

“You haven't seen him dance.”

John shot him a slightly frowning look. After a pause, he asked:

“How old is he?”

James shrugged.

“Sixteen or something.”

Let's pretend it doesn't matter even though it's precisely the reason I want to wrap my arms around him and not let him go. Damn those protective instincts.

“He's underage.” John noted.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just be careful.”

“You think I'd...”

“I'm just saying.” John cut in. “Kids this age never know what they want exactly, they move too fast then they regret it and you find yourself with a self-righteous parent or big brother accusing you of child abuse.”

James raised a brow.

“Are you speaking from experience?” He quipped.

“No.” John smiled. “I usually date within a two-year age difference. It's a lot less trouble if you ask me. Harriet though had problems with some parents not quite agreeing with the discovery of their daughter's sexual orientation. Anyway.”

“How are _your_ parents on the subject of sexual orientation?” James asked, whether it was out of genuine curiosity or because small talk would pass time until the guests arrived.

John shrugged.

“They say Harriet and I got a bit mixed up at one point in our unruly childhood. I think they were always prepared for her to like girls and for me to like boys instead of the other way round. It's quite liberating actually. I've been with girls so far but you know, I'm free.”

“So am I.” James commented. “In a slightly different way.”

John opened his mouth in search of an answer, but there was a knock on the door and he abstained.

The guests trickled in, and the small studio was soon filled with noise and people. In the middle of all the mess, James hadn't seen Quinton come in, and he knew he was here by John's face before he actually saw the boy. John wiggled his eyebrows, winked, turned back his gaze towards Quinn and froze.

James eyes followed; the boy hadn't come alone, and the taller guy accompanying him was indeed honestly quite gorgeous. James smiled mockingly, turning back to John, and leaned in to his ear:

“You're in luck, he's right within the two-years age difference.”

“Who is he?” Asked John, who seemed to have lost his breath and his ability to function.

“His brother.” James answered in a tone that indicated it was obvious. “They look enough alike that you could have guessed that yourself.” He mocked.

John nodded vaguely and kept staring. If he had been able to gather enough coordination to speak, James knew exactly what was on his mind: “Now _that_ is what I call sexy.” The boys did not seem to have noticed them, Sherlock looking bored and Quinn probably looking for James.

“Sherlock Holmes.” James added to John's intention. “He's nineteen, from what I've heard, and the smartest fuck you will ever meet. Except for his little brother maybe. Want to find out?”

His grin was positively predatory. It took John a moment to process, but he succeeded in tearing his gaze away from Sherlock.

“What? No, James, we are not having a boyfriends contest. Remember how it ended with those poor girls in Bristol.”

James shrugged.

“I won.”

“You also got kicked in the nuts.”

James half-smiled, half-winced at the memory.

“Seriously though.” John added. "Would you do that to him? Make a game of it?”

Above the crowd, Quinn's gaze found James, and he saw the boy's face light up uncontrollably.

“No.” James said.

He wondered if his face was showing any such emotion without him being any more aware of it than little Q was of his own expression. He wasn't smiling widely, obviously schooling his features, but there was a whole aura of bliss around him.

“He's in love with me.” James suddenly realised.

“What?”

He turned back to John.

“Did I say that out loud?”

He did not leave his friend time to answer, setting off to meet the Holmes brothers. John followed – he knew James well enough to notice that the straight face and polite smile on his face were hiding an understandable turmoil inside. It wasn't the first time someone was in love with James. But it was the first time it made him happy and scared at the same time. _He's so skinny_ , he noticed when they were face to face. _I'll break him if I don't watch out_.

“Good evening.” He said nonetheless, turning on the charmer smile.

“Hi.” Quinn replied. “I'd say you have a nice place, but I can't really make it out right now. You have a lot of friends.”

It sounded almost like a reproach, but his tone was something else. Need. And there it was, James realized. He was drawn to this boy because this boy looked like he needed him. From the beginning he hadn’t been able to bring himself to not provide to this need – need of protection, need of attention, need of affection. It sounded a bit simplistic perhaps, and it was entirely likely Q would not use that word, but it was what James had answered to. What can I do to help, what does he need.

He might have been looking at him a little too intensely; he noticed when the boy asked him for a drink in an attempt to lift the embarrassment. He set off to get him one, happy to put a little distance between them so he could breathe and order his thoughts. Q was adorable, and it was rather pleasing to be the object of his affections, but it could have been anyone who would have helped him that night, couldn’t it? Did he have a right to take advantage of the boy’s gratitude? He was sixteen, for Heaven’s sake. John was right. He had to be careful.

He took his time, maybe too liberally, attending to his other guests as if he had nobody to go back to; but Quinton Holmes never left his mind. He saw Eve approach him, and progressively more of his friends, and when the teenager found himself surrounded by a circle of people he barely knew, James decided to come to the rescue again. _Rescue,_ he caught himself. Damn I have to stop seeing him as a damsel in distress.

“You should come!” Robert was almost yelling when he reached the group.

“Who should come where?” It was as good a way as another to signal his presence and enter the conversation.

It was also rather rhetorical, because he already had a good idea what the answer was, and indeed Robbie was suggesting Quinton joined them on their planned seaside excursion the following week-end. Somehow, that didn’t please him at all. He needed more time before he agreed to spend a whole weekend with the boy, group or no group – and speaking of which, what business did his friends have to appropriate Quinn? He knew he wasn’t _his_ or anything, but it was a little annoying that they could all talk naturally, laugh and be friendly no questions asked.

“I thought we weren’t accepting any more people.” He said carefully, addressing Robert. “That’s what you said when Meryl asked if she could come.”

He didn’t want to sound like he was throwing Quinton away, but surely this had to be thought over, right?

“Yes. That’s because I don’t like her.”, Robert justified. “But we all like Quid-pro-quo. Don’t we James.”

Robert’s idea of a joke. Whatever turmoil was going on inside, James was known for seldom showing his emotions, so neither Robbie nor any of his friends had any way to know how much Quinn indeed disconcerted him. Nor did they need to know.

“That’s Robbie for you.” He tried to bounce back jokingly. “Anyone I smile to, he thinks...”

He stopped, knowing by the young Holmes’s face that any attempt at humour was not being successfully conveyed. If the boy was at ease a minute before, now he looked pale and worried – a look James was beginning to grow tired of provoking.

“Geez, James.” Robbie started talking again. “You managed to turn a joke into something mean.”

Mean? James thought. It’s not my fault if this guy has the sensitivity of, well, a sixteen year-old.

“I didn’t mean to be mean.” He tried to explain. “I was just saying, you were inferring...”

Inferring I might like him, which I hastily denied, when I know he might be in love with me. Ah, fuck. He didn’t know how human interaction worked anymore.

“I was just...”

“It was a _joke.”_ Robert stopped him from digging his own grave any further. “You bring us a new friend if I can’t joke about why-”

“There isn’t always a why!” James snapped.

God, this was worse than anything. Of course there was a why. Sure, he had invited the boy over because he was curious about him, but would he even be aware of his existence if it hadn’t been for the intervention of a rapist?

“Okay.” Robert seemed vexed. “Well you don’t need to get that touchy about it if there’s no hidden reason why-”

“Stop fucking asking why.” James snarled.

“I’m not! I’m not, you are absolutely free to-”

“Guys.” Eve cut in.

They turned to her, only briefly; she was looking at Quinton and they followed her gaze. James noticed how pale he was – again – and wanted to run his fingers against his thin skin to make him blush like he knew he so beautifully could. But Eve took things in hand, and dragged Q away from him.

“You’re white as a sheet. Come.”

James let out a deep sigh when they were away. Robert cast him a sideway looks.

“He’s a delicate little thing, isn’t he?” He said softly.

“Shut up, Robbie.”

“Honestly, James. You must have noticed how he looks at you. I shouldn’t have cornered you like this but you really weren’t smart on this one. Poor kid.”

“Hey, I have no intention of hurting him.” James defended himself. “Let it be my decision to call him a friend for now instead of rushing into something I’m not even sure he really wants.”

“Oh, he wants you.” Robert assured.

“Maybe.” James said. “But until he says that himself, I’m not acting on it.”

He proceeded to ignore Robert for a while. Eve returned with Quinton at one point, and they engaged in fun, casual conversations everyone was happy about.

Until Q stepped right into James’s personal space and kissed him without further ado. James didn’t know what he was expecting when the boy had announced he was about to do something stupid, but it wasn’t this. His first instinct was to push him away, but his second and stronger reaction was to kiss him back. He indulged for a few seconds before he drew back, in a slight state of shock.

“Wh-” Why? That was a stupid question, it was quite obvious why.

“Y-” You sure about this? Again, obvious.

“Wow.” That seemed to be the only accurate thing to say. “What was that?” He asked nonetheless, because Q was a little drunk and James still needed an explanation.

“A kiss?” The boy answered, tongue-in-cheek.

James didn’t think it was funny. Everything about their relationship happened for the wrong reasons, and it needed to stop. Now.

“Can I talk to you?”

Without waiting for Quinn’s answer, he pulled him towards the kitchen. The other Holmes was there, with John – so that was where he had disappeared to. He hadn’t wasted his time. But James had no mind to probe into that at the moment.

“Out.” He threw their way.

John knew him enough to perceive the urgency in his tone, and he left the room without a word, Sherlock on his heels. The older Holmes didn’t say anything, but James felt he would have to account to him if anything happened to his little brother. James thought he would worry about that later.

“You don’t owe me anything.” He told Quinton.

“What?”

James sighed. Why was nothing easy with this kid? He was good with words and people, usually. Why was it so tricky to get it right?

“What I did the other night...” He tried, reluctant to bring it up again. “I would have done so for anyone.” He felt awfully clumsy, which wasn’t a feeling he was used to. “I mean, anyone would have. It was a completely normal reaction. I know you might feel-”

“James.” The boy interrupted. ““Where are you going with that?”

Very good question. He had half a mind to drop the whole thing, but he had to get it right, he had to, for the sake of both of them.

“I know I’ve been the one not leaving you alone.” He admitted. “But don’t think it’s because I expect something in return or your infinite gratitude or-”

Once again, Q cut him mid-sentence.

“You think I kissed you because I feel grateful?”

He looked like it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

“Don’t get me wrong.” He said. “I do feel grateful, but this is ridiculous. And a little offensive, for both of us. I don’t have a crush on you because you saved me.”

He looked almost angry. It was the first time in his entire life, James reckoned, that he had gotten someone so pathetically wrong. He was off his game like he had never been; the more Quinton Holmes spoke, the less he knew about him.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I knew you before.”

Apparently James wasn’t allowed to finish any of his sentences tonight.

“I noticed you the first week I came here.” Q went on. “I fell in love with you the first week I came here.”

James froze. It was one thing to suspect someone’s feelings, and another entirely to hear him confess to your face.

“You-”

“I love you.” Quinn confirmed. “And I know it sounds absurd, because I had never spoken to you before _that night_ and even since then we haven’t really become close, but I love you. I just know it.”

I have been cast in a romantic comedy, James thought. And nobody told me. Still, this is the scene where I kiss him, isn’t it? It was all a bit hard to process. It was like the words made him happy but he didn’t truly understand their meaning. Focus, he inwardly slapped himself. Here is a boy telling you he loves you. Say something positive.

“Okay.”

_Okay?_

_“Okay?”_ Q repeated.

Fair enough, James thought. He probably needed to develop that a little.

“Let’s date.” He said.

He wanted to kick himself. His brain and mouth clearly weren’t aligned anymore. He saw in Quinton’s eyes he was starting to piss him off – that made two of them.

“Are you kidding me here?” The boy reacted. “Don’t just...humour me!”

Do something right, James urged himself. Just one little thing right. Now would be a good time.

He went for physical contact, hopping his body would be more able to convey his thoughts than his words were. He pulled Quinn into a loose hug, and concentrated on every syllable he let out of his mouth.

“I have been obsessed with you ever since I met you. And I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but here you are telling me you love me. It’s a little too good to pass on.”

Hey, that wasn’t half bad, was it? Since no instant emotion crossed Q’s face, he went as far as to plant a kiss on his lips. Too soon – the boy drew back.

“Wait.” He said. “I- You have- What do you mean obsessed?”

It was clear he wasn’t angry any longer, and James knew he was – finally – on the right track.

“What do you think?” He smiled.

Quinn remained confused.

“I thought...” He said hesitantly. “I thought you were just watching out for me because...because of your friend.”

“What?”

Could he really believe that? James hadn’t thought about Ellie since that talk with John, he had carefully pushed her out of his mind when it came to Quinn to stop himself from painfully comparing their situations.

“That’s about as stupid as when I thought...”

But before he had, actually, separated Ellie from the rest of his thoughts, he had literally told Quinton he didn’t want a similar case on his conscience again. He had told him that. Before he became a lot more important than just a boy he’d saved.

“Actually, yes, it probably looked like that.” He admitted. “Of course,” he added, “what you couldn’t see is that I haven’t been able to keep you out of my mind for weeks, wake of sleep.”

And that was a confession to himself as much as it was to Q, and it was as true as it came. He was rewarded by a wide smile.

“Oh.” Quinn noted. “Did you have that kind of dreams about me?”

You minx, James thought.

“Shut up.” He said.

And to make sure he would, he sealed the boy’s mouth with his own. He felt the thrill and happiness on Quinn’s tongue, the pliant lips ready to let him do absolutely anything he wanted. It scared him enough that he broke the kiss.

“However, I have to be honest with you.” He really had to.

“Please be.”

How do you phrase something like that?

“I can’t say I’m as certain as you are about my feelings.”

Honesty first, then something he wanted to hear. James felt a little cheap, because it was a strategy he had used a million times, but he didn’t know how else to do this.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.” He thus said – and by the tremor of Q’s body between his arms, he knew he had struck the right chord.

He could have said lover. Somehow Quinn seemed too young for this word. But James did have to make him understand he wasn’t his Prince Charming either.

“But I don’t 'just know' that I’ve found my soul mate in you.” He made clear, hoping it wasn’t too harsh a thing to say. “It sounds a little bit too...too much not like me.”

Quinton nodded ever so slightly.

“I get that.” He assured. “I’m not claiming anything.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” James retorted.

You’ve wormed your way under my skin already, and I’m pretty sure you’re going for the heart.

He kissed him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're both a little emotionally impaired aren't they.   
> I also wanted to say, Q is probably stronger and more capable than James sees him to be, even if he hasn't really had a chance to show him that yet. It will come :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter of James's thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is even shorter than it looked on my computer...

It had felt a little uncomfortable lying to Quinton about having an essay to write, but James really needed some time to process things a little. The night before accounted to a dizzying mayhem of drinks and laughter and confessions and kisses, oh, so many kisses, and James didn’t know what he would have done if there hadn’t been Sherlock to force Quinn away from him at the end of the party.

Yes, he knew. He would have listened to his body, he would have gotten carried away, and he would have taken the young Holmes directly into his bed, postponing thinking about the consequences of his actions until a fair amount of sex later. God, what was wrong with him. He wouldn’t begin to think preying on a sixteen-year old girl; why should it be different for Quinton? He felt horrible. Sure, it was the boy who had kissed him first, but still, he had no right to take advantage of his youth.

But he couldn’t just reduce the boy to his age. The simple fact that he was here proved that he was not your regular teenager. James couldn’t keep treating him like he was in high school, because he wasn’t. He had the full intellectual capacities to be here. And a kid like this was able to know exactly what he was doing, to know exactly what he was saying when he spoke “I love you”.

Because he had spoken it. And he had seemed pretty sure. James knew he had to take things easy with Quinn, but he couldn’t just dismiss his feelings because he was supposedly too young to have them requited. Of course he wasn’t too young. How much was James protecting _himself_ when he thought that? He didn’t want to take a risk, because John was right, teenagers could really be emotionally unstable. But so could anyone else.

And he was worth it, James suddenly realized. He didn’t know much about him, but he knew, for a fact, that he was worth it. Worth taking a chance, worth trying to make it work. Worth risking falling in love, worth even getting his heart broken, in the end, if it didn’t work out.

He would just have to make sure he didn’t break Q’s.


End file.
